


honesty is only one policy

by fated_addiction



Category: GOT7, K-pop, KARA (Band), Korean Actor RPF, 룸메이트 | Roommate (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:18:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3726886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fated_addiction/pseuds/fated_addiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"So. You like him, huh?"</i> We'll call this one a <i>friendly</i> push.</p>
<p>OR that time that Jackson's friends wanted to see themselves, in person, and Youngji still hasn't figured out why boys like her or if she's watching too many dramas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	honesty is only one policy

**Author's Note:**

> Another tumblr [Anon](http://fated-addiction.tumblr.com/) request. Because. Well, _because_.

"So. You like him, huh?"

Now, before you go and go _there_ , Youngji would like you, the universe to know, that she has been asked this question about 3, 672, 573 times, not going various, daily questions from her mother and sister and those times her eonnis try and sneak it in, only to get caught by Youngji when all it's about is their desire for romantic, accidental confession since they are all not-so-secretly cheesy anyway. 

But when Amber stops her, on her way out of the share house, letting Henry and Bambam stumble forward with Jackson, they sort of links arms and Youngji finds herself leaning against the older girl.

"Eonni," she mumbles.

Amber chuckles. "Listen, kid," she teases. Her gaze is bright. "I won't say anything. But I feel like you've been dying to get _something_ out. And clearly, clearly you guys are too obvious to --" Youngji's expression is blank. Amber laughs again. "Solidarity, man," she finishes. "Solidarity."

This is the problem.

She can say a lot of things about Jackson. She can even go, say, and basically spin circles around saying that she _likes_ Jackson. Because she does. But when he goes and gets angry, jealous even, when she feels like she's not the girl to get jealous over, it becomes what it's always been; insanely confusing.

"I do like him," she says automatically. Her voice soften. She spots Bambam watching them over Amber's shoulder. "He's my best friend," she says too and it feels a little shaky. "And I hate when he's mad at me."

"He's not mad at you," Amber murmurs. She slides her hands into her pockets. Her bag rests over her elbow, before she swings it behind her, over her shoulders. "He just -- boys are like --" she pauses, laughing, and they both turn to watch Henry chase Jackson around the car. "Well, you know."

"I guess."

Amber smirks. "I know you like him," she says gently. "And I know he likes you. Like really likes you. I don't know why neither of you -- actually, I do know why. But that's stupid and in a profession where you already give so much, you earn the right to be a little selfish too."

Youngji's throat dries. It feels a little tight. Her eyes are heavy and she looks down because she doesn't know where else to look.

"I --"

Amber shakes her head. "Would you tell him?"

"He hasn't ask me," she mumbles. She shifts, leaning against the wall. "I don't know what I'd say if he'd ask me, I guess. Sometimes I wish I did. The scariest part is the answer. I don't really know what I'd say."

"I think you do," Amber says.

"It's not _that_ easy," she counters. She flushes, but Amber waves a hand, a silent affirmation that she hasn't step over some sort of line. "There's so much to think about. I can't think of it irresponsibly --"

"Do you think that's what's blocking you?"

"Eonni." Her voice softens. Her breath catches too. "It's so scary to worry about these things. Because at no point, has there been any reassurance that I can even think about just me _and_ him."

It's the closest she's ever come to saying something, if it can be called _something_ ; Amber looks at her like it's a surprise and something incredibly personal, which makes her feel even more embarrassed. She's still worried, you know, that he's mad and if it's even about that. 

Her feet shuffle against the ground. Amber nudges her.

"He might surprise you."

Jackson calls Amber's name and looks right at her. There are butterflies in her stomach. This part is true. She swallows. He looks away.

Her hair is in her face. "I've never been that girl," Youngji says.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Nana leaves for Japan that night. Guk Joo is gone in the morning too; filming, she tells her, and an MC commitment, so don't be surprised waking up alone. 

Youngji does not wake up alone.

Jackson is in her room. Awake, mind you. In Nana's bed, wrapped in Guk Joo's giant, pink princess comforter, and scrolling down his phone like this is an everyday thing. His eyes are sleepy. His hair is mussed. She's confused, alarmed, but manages to slowly sit up because she remembers _cameras_ and checks to see if the door is open because the LAST thing they need is a scandal.

"Don't start."

She yawns loudly, sitting up. "Start _what_ ," she slurs sleepily. She rubs her eyes with her sleeves. "You're in my room, you know."

"I can hear you thinking," he counters. "You'll panic in ten minutes."

"I'm _not_."

"Ten minutes --"

Youngji throws her pillow at his face and he laughs.

"Why are you here?" she asks, and he points to her phone. She reaches for it and sees the light flashing. A text message from Hara, two from Amber, three from Bambam and Jackson has the number eight next to his name. "Did you sleep at all," she mutters and rubs her eyes again. She tosses her phone to the side of her bed.

"We didn't get to talk."

She blinks, surprised. "Are you --" she's a little hesitant, " -- are you still mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" he asks, seriously. Then he sort of smiles, shrugging. "Ah. Because you didn't pick me."

"Jackson --"

"What? It's no big deal." And of course, it's a big deal. His gaze changes slowly and she can almost hear him thinking. She can't tell if he's going to tease her or not; she's never been good at the self-actualizing part of this, or the fact that he just knows how to push but she really isn't the greatest without pushing back. She was totally honest with Amber, you know; she thinks too much.

"I --"

Her legs curl underneath her.

"Why do your friends keep asking me then," she pushes slowly, "about, you know -- us, I guess."

"You guess?" 

"Jackson," Youngji murmurs.

His expression is completely blank. His eyes are darker too. He leans forward, on his knees, and somewhere in all of this, she finds herself acknowledging that he's serious, really serious and right in front of her.

"Do you really want to know?" he asks.

"You're answering a question with a question," she says.

"Well, let's talk about it then." He reaches forward, his fingers pushing at her hair. Her eyes grow and her mouth drops open and he's sort of smirking, sort of watching even more intently than she even expects. 

She watches his hand drop.

"I get jealous," he says, and she scoffs. He shrugs. "I won't hide it. I won't even apologize for it."

"I'm not asking for you to say that you're sorry," she says.

"No," he counters, "but you seem surprised. I don't like sharing and you know that and it's weird, really weird, because there's a place for you in my life and I want to keep you there. I just don't know what to call it. I don't even know what I want to be just yet."

She shakes her head. "That makes no sense." She shifts forward and tries not to think about how they should go downstairs and be responsible. They should make breakfast for the members that are in the house. "You're making these decisions, or thinking these things, or getting jealous without explaining _why_ or giving me a chance to decide how I _feel_. We talk about so much, you know, and it's like impossible to talk about this, whatever THIS is, because you won't get straight to the point and I don't know what to say back to you."

Jackson stares at her. Then: "We talk every day," he mutters.

Youngji throws her hands up. 

"Yah! That is such a boy thing to _say_."

She kicks herself off the bed, standing with her hands on her hips. She's suddenly so frustrated, nearly shaking, her eyes half-wide, dark, and her mouth set into a deep frown.

"This isn't the place to talk about this," he says.

He's right, of course, since there are cameras everywhere in the house and if anything, it just takes one, strange and curious staff member to leak something. Not that they would, she thinks. But being like this, being an idol, being _surrounded_ makes you think about things, a lot of things. Youngji thinks about too many things.

"Then when?" she asks.

He doesn't answer.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

They don't talk, of course. She isn't mad, of course. It doesn't mean she doesn't think about it though; she spends days, weeks, really thinking about it because they're always close, maybe too much. She stumbles over dance steps, forgets a couple lines, and Hara takes her by the hand, pulls her ponytail, and says, "Yah! Just _talk_ to him and get it out of your system!" but it's a little cuter, a little more charming, and exactly what she needs.

Then, well, there's this:

i didnt start trouble did i

(She smiles because it's Bambam and being mad at Bambam is like hating puppies.)

_no! why would you say that?_

worried for you

It flusters and catches her off-guard. She takes a minute too long to respond, only because she doesn't know what to say.

_i'm fine! really!_

YAH STOP TEXTING HIM comes not a minute sooner, catching her _completely_ by surprised, only because her phone vibrates and she drops it, then she focuses and gets mad that she just went and dropped her phone. Luckily, it's just the couch and she doesn't have another stupid reason to be upset with Jackson, even though she's not really upset with Jackson, just, you know, puppies and Bambam and why can't they be friends?

She ignores the following messages too, even from Bambam, which, if anything, is totally unfair because he didn't do anything but try and be her friend and well, be wonderful really. It gives her a center of focus, enough to power through round six of dance rehearsals, for her eonnis and the notion she has the energy to focus.

He calls on the next break.

"Yah," he says.

She holds the phone against her shoulder. Sweat gathers against the back of her neck and with her free hand, she picks at her shirt.

"I'm deciding," she says slowly, "if I want to talk to you."

"Oh, well, now you're mad?"

Her eyes narrow. "Wang. Jackson."

"I don't like when you text him," he says and she swears, seriously, _swears_ that he's pouting and making a face because he's really mad and knows that being stupid might be his way to retaliate.

"I answered the phone because --"

"What can you tell him that you can't tell me?" he asks and then, there, the proverbial dropping pin becomes six thousand bricks that sort of hit her. Like really, really hard. 

This isn't a revelation. It's not that ah-ha moment that you get when you're addicted to week day dramas and all you want is the lead to kiss the girl for once because _you've_ been waiting for it just as much as she probably has. But she knows what she wants to say and probably -- no, it will. It will change everything. Maybe more than she's ready for. Maybe it'll make everything that much harder.

"Why don't you ask me the real question?" she asks, and her heart is in her throat, pounding even, and she sort of sits, right in front of the mirror because her eonnis are off to their own commitments. They'll meet again later and she's the only one off right now.

"Okay."

Youngji jumps. Her hand covers her mouth; she-half squeals, half-stutters, and very nearly curses.

"What are you _doing_ here?"

Jackson is standing in the practice room. He's in all black, clearly coming from some sort of fan event. She knows because he takes off his hat and it's the _leather_ hat and he likes that one for events only and stupidly, it's the hat that she gave him for his birthday.

She has yet to stand. He comes over and promptly sits right in front of her, dropping quickly and sliding his phone off to the side, where her bag just sort of sits.

"You wanted to talk," he says.

Her hands tremble a little. She realizes she's listening to nothing but dial tone. 

"So you came all the way here?"

He shrugs. "I have a couple of hours," he says. "And I told you we were going to talk," he says too and he's serious, really serious actually. "Didn't believe me?"

"I didn't say that," she says.

He pokes her nose. "Didn't have to," he mimics and she wrinkles her nose, right under his finger.

She's quiet. She watches him. His fingers move from her nose to her forehead, over her bangs, pushing them aside and she feels a little more than shy. Her hands start to slide up and down her legs.

"So."

Her ears are ringing too.

"Should I be _happy_ when you talk to other girls too," she asks, "or when you tell girls _you're just my style_ \-- should I be happy that _you_ get to be close to them _too_?"

He grins a little. "You should."

And then something in her snaps, just a little bit, her hand reaching forward and hitting his arm. 

"That's mean," she says. "That's so _mean_?"

"Wh _yyy_?"

"Jackson." Her hand hits him again, but he catches her this time and their fingers lace together and it's really stupid, but she's bright red and his palm feels flushed against hers. "Jackson, don't you think I get jealous too?"

"We're not dating," he says, and gently. It makes her even angrier because it feels like he's trying to make it okay. "I'm just teasing you."

"But you don't get to get ANGRY like _that_ ," she explodes. "Because then I don't know what to do and I get these FEELINGS that make me dizzy and _stupid_ and then I forget dance steps and I'm already anxious about everything else AND you daily. Do you even know how hard it is to tell you that I like you?"

His hand drops.

The room falls silent. She is vaguely aware of conversations outside, the opening and closing of doors, and some music too because their company runs all day with all their groups coming in and out. All of those thoughts fade, if only because he's looking at her, maybe really looking at her, or looking at her for the first time since she's really let herself acknowledge. Maybe it's because she's letting herself look back.

"I like you," she says again. Her voice is softer. It cracks a little too and she draws her legs up, against her chest. "I like you a lot," she manages, "and it's something that scares me so much because I'm not good at this push and pull thing, I'm not good at telling when you're joking or not, and I'm _awful_ , Wang Jackson, and not wanting to know the people around you and be close to them too because if they're important to you, they're important to me too."

He's quiet still.

You've done it, she tells herself. She'll never survive this either because their _Roommate_ family is so heavily invested in how happy they are and teasing them about whatever is going on between them that she almost feels a little devastated -- they'll pick Jackson, she thinks, because she'd pick Jackson too and she needs him to understand that. It has to be clear.

"Stop thinking," he's gruff, abrupt, and his hand is in her hair, curling through her ponytail. He shuffles forward, on his knees, and leans over her. "You're worrying," he says, "and I don't like when you get --" his fingers smooth against her forehead, then over her mouth, "-- that expression isn't for you," he finishes awkwardly. "I don't want to be the one that makes you like this."

"I don't even know what you're saying," she mumbles.

He kisses her this way. It's unexpected, disappointing (she wanted to kiss him first, okay), but it makes her head spin so _quickly_. She tastes the coffee off of his mouth, sighs and finds herself pressing against him, fistfuls of his shirt and nearly knocking back his hat as she kisses him back. It's a quiet kiss. It's clumsy too. His tongue hits her teeth. She laughs. He nearly falls into her, but it's a kiss, it's the right kiss, and it's halfway into the words that she needs to hear from him.

She remembers to breathe first. He breaks away after, his thumb smoothing over her lip.

"I'm sorry I worry you," he says. 

His mouth is in her hair and she feels him tremble just a little bit more. Maybe he'll tell her though. Maybe he won't. Everything starts to slow down and he takes back her hand, holding it tightly in his lap.

"Just don't like anyone else," he says, and she laughs.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Seven months, three days, and 3:56am is when the world finds out that they're dating.

Her mother makes Jackson dinner. People pretend that they're surprised.


End file.
